


Relief

by Belladonna_Q



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Halloween Prompt Fest, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12328482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_Q/pseuds/Belladonna_Q
Summary: For Reapersun and I's Halloween Prompt Fest someone requested Vampire!Spock..





	Relief

“Why would you do this again?”

Jim Kirk huffed a surprised laugh as he hauled himself up on their bed, left arm tucked against his chest as if protective.

He could smell it now.

“Jim, this isn’t logical. As we’ve discussed.”

Coppery.

“I know what we’ve discussed.  Now come here.”

Wet.

Jim smirked, and Spock knew he was staring. Jim glanced down at his own arm as if amused, letting it rest against his knee. He reached with his other hand, plucking the cloth and gently pulling back the golden fabric to his elbow. A neat slice, three inches long. The blood had smeared and soaked into his clothing and a thick, ruby line trailed down towards his fingertips. Spock’s teeth clenched at the sight. Jim wasn’t looking at him, but there was a slight upturn of his lip as if he could infer Spock’s thoughts as the Vulcan watched.

“You injured yourself deliberately. Again.”

“Should I get Bones in here? Patch me up?” Jim spoke indolently as if not even listening.

“Jim.”

“What do you think? A bandage or a stitch?”

“ _Jim_.”

“Unless you’d like to take a look?”

“You know I will not—“

Spock stopped entirely as he watched Jim lift his arm to his mouth, lowering his lips to his skin and swiping his flat tongue across the bloodied gash. It dragged away bright red. A ruby teardrop drip fell from his lips to his chin.

“Do not do that!” It was a shocked bark and his body shook with the sudden outrage, unwelcome and unfamiliar. “Jim—“ He went to his Captain, hands shaking.

“Come here,” Jim’s soft brown eyes were filled with warmth, and Spock shook his head. He couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t look away. From. Seeping. Red. Red. Jim’s red. Jim’s life.  

The Captain took Spock’s hands and tugged gently, the Vulcan’s knees knocking against the bedframe. He couldn’t look anywhere else but down to the long cut on Jim’s arm. It continued to seep heavily and a shiver ran through him.

“Come here,” Jim repeated again. He smiled and his teeth were stained pink.  

The desire was monstrous. Something only a mindless, ravenous beast would do.

Spock felt any semblance of a Vulcan tether snap. He pulled at Jim’s arms, his grip wetly sliding down, feeling the stickiness of Jim’s wound. He squeezed as if to make a point, a knuckle digging into cut flesh. Jim’s eyes flickered only for a moment with surprised pain.

“Does this hurt, Jim?” Spock asked, mouth bared, and he felt his teeth begin to fang downward, excitement building as Jim merely smirked.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Mr. Spock.”

Enough of a tease to spark the competitive nature of a Vulcan and enough of a threat to shake loose his thirst.

The base of Jim’s jaw is gripped tightly and lifted; his chin rises to follow. Spock lowered his head, and Jim’s breath turned thuddy as a low growl—a growl only Jim gets to hear—emanated deep in the Vulcan’s throat. Jim tipped his head back further until his neck’s pulled so tight it leaves his breath ragged.

“Clothes.” He managed to mutter, and Spock released his arms long enough to strip them. Blood coats his hands, his fingers and it smears thick, odd patterns against their uniforms. Against their chests and thighs. His arm aches and begins to itch. Christ, he doesn’t care.

Hands back on his arms, Spock raises his injured limb, and Jim feels lips press against the stinging wound. He watches as Spock’s face turns angular—much too angular—fanged and beautifully grotesque.  

Spock’s lips and teeth and tongue won’t stop until they’ve traveled the circumference of his arm, piercing little bites and laps. Jim does his best not to wince, to remain still, before he allows himself to fall slowly forward until his forehead rests against Spock’s chest as the Vulcan pulls away from the meat of his arm.

Strong fingers stroke his nape, the sensitive cords of his neck. He lifts his head, glancing at the pointed teeth. Jim’s mouth parts slightly, offering.

It’s an offer Spock usually rejects. But the Vulcan doesn’t refuse when Jim licks his own teeth, tasting his own life-blood. Spock is very still, restrained, before lowering his head licking into Jim’s open mouth. Spock sliced his tongue on teeth and cheekbones and a sharp jaw, running fangs along Jim’s throat.

It pierces.

The pain is unexpected but his mind goes blissfully blank, accepting. The universe condenses into Spock holding onto his neck, the red of his body draining, and Jim breathing.

It’s such a beautiful relief.


End file.
